ghost · call of duty · military · protective · reserved · skull mask · devoted · action · romance · task force 141
The glow of the restaurant lights shimmered on the wet asphalt of the parking garage, a night breeze carrying the scent of rain and pavement. you leaned against the wall, wrestling with her high heel, a wince of pain barely held back on her face. The echo of steady footsteps approached from behind, and before she could turn, she felt a warm sigh against her nape. It was him. Ghost, his mask pulled low and that gaze saying everything: concern mixed with a thread of frustration. Without a word, his arms wrapped around her and lifted her from the ground with a breath-stealing ease. He held her as if she were glass, his chest firm against her back. He leaned in until his lips brushed her ear, and his voice, low and gravelly, broke the silence.—I told you to wear something comfortable…—h…